


To P or Not to P

by DesireeArmfeldt



Category: due South
Genre: Bodily Functions, Embarrassment, First Time, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:45:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The perils of poor planning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To P or Not to P

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my Seekrit Santa fic. Nor my yuletide fic. It's something I half-wrote a while ago while killing time, and decided now was as good a time as any to finish it off.

Ray is doomed.

It's what-do-you call, ironical, because right at this moment he's sprawled half-on and half-off his sofa with his jeans around his ankles and Fraser's hot hands caressing his bare thighs and Fraser's mouth sucking him off, and it feels just as fanfuckingtastic as he'd always imagined it would, but he can't actually enjoy it because he can't figure out how to keep everything from going to hell in the next minute or so.

The problem is, he didn't think far enough ahead, to what would happen if he made his move and it actually worked.  It wasn't that he had expected Fraser to turn him down, exactly--he wouldn't have said anything if he hadn't thought he at least had a chance.  But maybe he hadn't really quite expected Fraser to say yes, either.

So when he took a deep breath and put his hand on Fraser's shoulder and said, "Hey, Fraser, would you mind if I, uh, kissed you?" and Fraser blinked a couple times but then looked him straight in the eye and came back at him with, "I would be delighted," Ray was, yeah, okay, maybe kind of surprised.  Not too surprised to follow through, though.  So he kissed Fraser, and Fraser gave back as good as he got and then some, and then what was a lot more surprising was just how much territory that _then some_ turned out to cover, and how fast.  And Ray was down with that: anything Fraser wanted to do was just peachy as far as Ray was concerned, and oh God, Fraser's hands and his mouth and the soft little happy, hungry noises coming out of him, and the flush on his cheeks and the brightness of his eyes every time they meet Ray's, hell yes, Ray was and is more than happy with all that.

Except he really has to piss.  Like, really badly, to the point where it's not just distracting, he's actually not sure how long he can hold it.  But his cock is in Fraser's mouth, and the last thing Ray wants to do is ruin the mood by mentioning what other bodily functions it gets used for.  Well, really that's the second-to-last thing he wants, because even worse would be just sitting here not saying anything until he loses control and completely humiliates both of them.  That would be the bank thing multiplied by a million; he's pretty sure he'd actually die from that.

But if he gets up to go to the john, he'll have to tell Fraser to stop, push him away.  And sure, obviously Ray could explain, which would be embarrassing but he's survived worse.  It's just, he's scared Fraser will take it wrong.  That he won't believe that Ray just has lousy timing.  That he'll take it personal.

Which is ridiculous, because what, he's less likely to take it personal if Ray pisses on him?  But weirdly, Ray thinks that's actually exactly true.  Because Fraser acts incredibly confident and self-sufficient 99% of the time, but this, right here, Ray is pretty sure this is that other 1%.  Because he remembers the look on Fraser's face when that bounty hunter chick walked away, and now Fraser keeps flicking these little peeks up at him, and, yeah, his eyes are shining, but there's something unsure in there, too, like he's checking to make sure Ray's not going to bolt on him.

Which Ray doesn't want to do, God no.  But even if he can hold it until he comes (and what _happens_ if you come when you need to pee this bad?  Ray doesn't even know.), he's not going to be done, because he'll still have Fraser to take care of, and it's not like he wants to rush that.  He doesn't want to rush any of this.  He'd like to stay here forever, loving Fraser like he deserves to be loved, like both of them deserve, but oh fuck oh fuck he's going to lose it, one way or the other or maybe both, and he can't stay can't stop can't think, _fuck, think, do something, say something, anything, oh God--_

"Look, turtles," he gasps, and holy hell, it works.  At least, Fraser pulls back ( _yesnoyes_ ) and looks up at him, sex-dazed and frowning, and says, "You're unhinged."

"Yeah, hold that thought," says Ray as he hauls up his pants one-handed so he can sprint for the can.

For a couple of seconds his swollen, sexed-up dick is too confused to know what the hell it's supposed to be doing, but then something releases and the relief of pissing is so intense it's almost like coming.  And then he's standing there with his dick in his hand, and his dick is wondering why he's not getting back to the sexytimes part of the show but his brain is wondering exactly how bad it's going to hurt when he opens that door.  And also, whether it will make things worse if he tucks in and buttons up, or goes out there to face Fraser with his jeans hanging open.

There's a light rap on the door and Ray nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Ray?"  Because of course, Fraser heard him flush and must be wondering what the hell he's doing in here.  Ray can't tell what else Fraser's thinking, though, not from just one word.

"Yeah?"  One hand on his fly, the other on the doorknob, but it's easier to talk through the door than to open the damned thing.

"I don't believe there are, in fact, any turtles in your apartment.  Apart from Bullitt, of course, but he appears to be minding his own business.”  There’s a pause, then, softly, “Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you open the door, please?”

So he does, because he doesn’t really need to act like even _more_ of an idiot. Fraser’s standing there with his shirt still off (good) and his hands behind his back like he’s at parade rest (bad) and a crease between his eyebrows that could mean confused or annoyed or hurt or thoughtful or any of a million other things, Ray doesn’t even know.

“Ray?” he says again.

“Yeah.  Um.  Sorry.  I just. . .”  Ray shrugs and waves his hand over his shoulder at the bathroom behind him.  “I just had to go.”

“I gathered that much.”  The frown’s definitely heading for hurt-and-confused now.  “Maybe. . .perhaps it would be best if _I_ went?”  Which makes no sense at all, but then it does, and damn it, this is not the time for Fraser to not understand American. 

“No, no, I mean, I had to _go_ ,” Ray says hastily.  “To the bathroom.  I had to use the bathroom.”

“Ah.  I see," says Fraser, and then waits. 

Ray has no clue what he's supposed to say now.  He's already apologized, and he can't tell if Fraser's mad or hurt or just doing a real good job of not laughing his ass off at Ray or what.  Worse, he has no idea if he should try to pick back up with the sexy stuff or whether he's killed the mood dead dead dead.

"Um.  Should we. . .I mean, do you want. . . ?"  And, no, damn it, he just _can't_ make himself ask, _You want to stick my cock in your mouth now that I've just used it to take a piss?_   That's just gross, and rude, and, and he can't.  "Or, I could--I mean, if you want--" 

Fraser tilts his head to one side and gives Ray a puzzled look, and Ray's danger signals are firing: he's fucking this up and he knows it, he's shit at talking when it comes to important stuff, and maybe he shouldn't try to talk, maybe he should let his body do the talking.  Except now he's kind of grossed _himself_ out with all this thinking about bodily functions, and he doesn't know whether he'd actually be able to put his mouth on Fraser's dick right now even if Fraser wanted him to.  Which is stupid (he tells himself, trying to stop panicking), because Fraser's Mr. Hygiene, at least when he's not trekking through the wilderness.  Fraser's probably clean enough to eat off.  Hell, he probably washes his cock with soap and water after he. . .

Now, hey, there's a thought. 

"Hey, you want to take a shower?"  Ray blurts.  "I mean, with me?  Together?"

Fraser's still giving him the puzzled frown.

"A shower?"

"Yeah.  You could, like, help me clean off," Ray says, but Fraser's giving him no help at all, here, just standing there letting Ray babble.  Watching him with that little frown that's part _do please explain your barbaric American customs_ and part something scary.

"I mean, we could both. . .not that you're dirty or anything, but. . .or just, you know, for fun."

"Fun?"

"Yeah, fun. I know you've heard of the concept."  Jesus, how is he supposed to _explain_ what’s fun about showering together?  Why did Ray have to fall for the only person in the world who doesn't already get something so fundamentally obvious? Maybe up in the Northwest Areas, it's too cold to screw around in the shower.  Or the environment cops come after you for frivolous waste of water.

 "And, you know, then you'd be sure I was, uh, clean enough for you, and. . ." Ray trails off lamely.

"Oh," says Fraser, and then the frown clears off his face like everything has suddenly been made clear to him, although Ray doesn't see how. 

" _Oh,"_ Fraser says again, softer and real intense, and he gives Ray this _look_ that burns right through him.  And Ray has half a second to wonder what the hell Fraser thinks they're getting cleaned up for, before Fraser grabs him tight and kisses the daylights out of him.  At which point he can't be bothered to worry about it.  Ray will end up glad they tried whatever it is, in the end, because that's how Fraser rolls.

But first things first: it's time to teach Fraser a few new uses for soap and water.  If Ray plays his cards right, neither of them will never look at a bathroom in quite the same way again.


End file.
